


Ode to the Singing Bird

by frogsupremacy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Family Dynamics, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29597853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogsupremacy/pseuds/frogsupremacy
Summary: You were weak, and Levi made you strong.
Relationships: Isabel Magnolia & Reader, Levi Ackerman/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	Ode to the Singing Bird

The first time you were called weak, you were twelve years old and had just joined the training corps.

Fresh out of a growth spurt, you towered over the other kids, tall and gangly, like one of the wild baby foals you and your siblings had seen prancing around a field once. Height didn’t correlate to strength, however, and three of the meanest-looking boys you’d ever seen easily picked up on that when you shrank back at the commandant’s loud voice. 

The rough ground scraped your hands and legs as they pushed you down into the dirt and dust. You stared at a tiny weed sprouting from a crack beside the middle boy’s feet to stop yourself from crying. 

“Pathetic.” 

“She’s probably from one of those mountain villages, they’re dumb as toddlers there.” 

“For being that tall, she’s useless. And weak. Can’t even fight back.” 

They finally left, but not before leaving purple stains to bloom across your cheekbones and ribs. The sun dipped below the horizon, and as you laid there, your heart aching more than the bruises, you thought of your family. Of your mother. Of your little sisters and brothers. 

So you picked yourself up. 

For the next three years, when the boys came to bother you, you’d let them throw their punches and took it without saying a word. You were considered quiet among your fellow cadets, and they talked without restraint near you, so you knew that the shortest boy’s father had died from some unknown disease that not even the renowned Grisha Jaeger could figure out. 

You learned that the boy’s name was Samuel. 

You felt sorry for him, even when he spit on your face and it slowly dripped onto your favorite shirt. 

Three years later, you were fifteen years old, and when the boys tried to hurt you again, this time sliding their hands up your shirt and pressing too tightly on your neck, you sent Samuel’s friends away with a few broken fingers.

Samuel found himself with no injuries, but they never bothered you again, and once again, you remembered your mother. Your little sisters and brothers.

This was all for them. 

Sometime after the incident, you discovered that Samuel and his friends were joining the Garrison. They hadn’t made the top ten, and neither had you. It didn’t bother you too much; after all, you hadn’t joined the training corps to be a revered legend. 

You originally planned on joining the Garrison and making a decent pay. A humble life, if not one without its problems. But after hearing of Samuel’s plans, you found yourself as one of five saluting to the commander of the Survey Corps, signing your life away to the wrath and chaos of the world outside the Walls. 

When you received a letter back from your mother after informing her of the news, you weren’t surprised to find tear stains on the crumpled paper. 

Somewhere outside the women’s barracks, a single bird warbled its lonely song as you folded the letter and tucked it in your pocket. 

The next few years were lonely, cold, and long. The thrill of being a new recruit quickly faded, and no longer did a veteran soldier come up and congratulate you or any of the others for your bravery. You spent your free time writing to your family, reading the worn-down books brought to you by a sullen-faced bookkeeper, and eating the crappy meals alongside your equally downtrodden comrades. 

It wasn’t the tales of victory and glory you’d heard about, but it was better than nothing, and it was certainly better than spending the rest of your days in the Garrison next to Samuel. 

“We’re headed to the Underground?” you asked, startled but trying to keep your tone respectful. “Why?”

Erwin Smith stood at the door of the stables, not a strand of blond hair sticking out with a serious expression on his face. You remembered first meeting him and being intimidated by his cold blue eyes and even colder way of discussing the possibility of death on expeditions. He still scared you, in a way, as he seemed a little less than human. “I’ll explain when we get there. It should be quick.” 

He was wrong. 

ODM gear had always been your calling card, and maybe that’s the only reason you were brought along, but you couldn’t help but feel like a failure when you weren’t the one to capture the thugs. Next to you, Miche cast you a sympathetic glance when he noticed your tight-lipped frown without loosening his grip on the shortest thug’s hair. 

All three of them were younger than you imagined, probably around your age or a little older. The girl had a childish face, and the way she was thrashing around reminded you of a temper tantrum. The two men were calmer, only deciding to grit their teeth at Erwin, who stood in front of them like an executioner. 

Erwin was talking, but you didn’t hear him. You could only focus on the sharp lines of the face belonging to the thug whose hair Miche was grasping harshly. His eyes were narrow and the exact color of a knife, but it was the frozen rage on his face that sent your heart racing. 

Dangerous, your bones said.

Watch out, your blood whispered.

Beautiful, your mind murmured. 

In the end, you discovered his name was Levi. They were given a choice, and they had decided to go with the Scouts. 

You avoided the three the first few weeks when they started their training. Frankly, they terrified you. Completely confident in themselves, they radiated power, strength.

Old habits die hard, and as you always did, you kneeled in front of those stronger than you. Submissive, docile. It made you sick. 

Isabel was the first to warm up to you. You soon learned that her temper matched her fiery red hair, and that she got along with animals more than people. She jabbered on and on about how excited she was to ride the horses and touch the sky so much that you almost found yourself smiling. 

Then you’d catch Levi studying the two of you, and your mouth would snap back to its customary frown. He never approached you, never tried to strike up a conversation, and his blatant opposition to making friends in the Survey Corps was obvious. 

The night before their first expedition, sleep evaded you. You received a letter from your mother hours ago, and she told you that your sister was planning on joining the Scout Regiment. She had entered training a month ago and was already dead-set on accompanying you in your Titan killing. 

You sobbed for a long time after that. You didn’t remember your sister idolizing you so much. You didn’t remember the sound of your mother’s voice. But you couldn’t go home. You didn’t want them to see you like this. 

So instead of sleeping, you wandered around, your legs carrying to the stables, where your horse waited dutifully for you. She’d been your horse for four years, but you hadn’t given her a name, despite her mostly being your only friend. 

It was warm next to her, and through a crack in the stable roof, you could see a bit of the night sky, dark and inviting, with a cluster of stars in sight. 

“Stargazing?” 

You inhaled sharply at the sudden voice, but it was only Isabel, her hair loose instead of in her normal pigtails. Her eyes were wide and cheerful as she took in the scene of your arms wrapped around your horse. 

“Not really,” you replied, detaching yourself from your horse’s side. “This is kind of a bad spot to be.” 

Isabel waved a dismissive hand. “No matter. I’d want to be with Birdie if I could too. But I’m going to meet up with Levi and Furlan!” 

You felt the corners of your mouth turn up, but quickly relaxed them. “Birdie? Is that your horse?” 

“Yep! It’s just a nickname for now. It’s because, when I ride her, it feels like I’m flying. And I feel unstoppable.” 

“Oh. That’s good.” 

“What’s your horse’s name?” 

“Nothing yet. I haven’t decided.” You reached up to pat your horse’s nose, and she nickered softly. 

“You should name her after me!” Isabel declared, sticking a thumb into her chest as she puffed out importantly. 

You felt your gaze soften. “Maybe I will. Didn’t you say you were going to meet up with Levi?”

Isabel eyed you suspiciously. “And Furlan.” 

And maybe it was because it was late, and almost uncomfortably warm outside, or it could’ve been the way Isabel’s green eyes almost glowed in the moonlight, or even some random courage you had stored inside your heart, but you fixed all of your attention on Isabel and said, “Tell Levi I can feed his horse for him tomorrow morning.”

When Isabel shot you a grin and pranced off, you almost collapsed into the hay. You didn’t know what had gotten into you. Telling a random person you don’t know that well that you’ll feed his horse for him? 

Some small part of you was still intrigued by that black-haired loner with the guarded eyes, and perhaps that was explanation enough. 

And when you walked back to the barracks to get some sleep before the expedition, you spotted three lone figures on the top of the castle, staring at the stars, and you could’ve sworn the one with black hair swiveled its head to look at you. 

The next night, there was only one person looking to the stars for answers, and you felt that dull ache in your chest as you drew closer to him. 

He looked beaten. He looked like he fought against an old, forgotten god and lost. There was no rage in that face, no sadness, only unyielding stone. The moonlight colored his skin silver, and as you approached, you couldn’t help but stare at the delicate outline of his jaw. 

“Levi.” 

Your voice was quiet against the night air. 

Silence. 

He didn’t respond. You expected him not to, so instead of retreating like your inner coward was telling you to, you stopped next to him, the cloud from your breath mingling with the moon stained air.

It was quiet for so long that you almost turned around and walked away.

“Isabel told me you didn’t name your horse yet.” 

His voice was ragged, like he’d been screaming for days. You didn’t answer at first, instead keeping still as he raised his gaze to meet yours. 

Dangerous, your bones said.

Watch out, your blood whispered.

Ugly, your mind murmured.

And it was ugly, that blazing fire in his eyes, lit with pain and horror and that childlike innocence of not knowing why. Not knowing why the people he loved the most were taken from him so cruelly, as he was miles away, torn to pieces under the rain. 

“I did just today,” you said, and your voice didn’t waver, and for once, you were glad. 

Levi had no reaction except for the shivering of his eyes. “What is it?”

“Magnolia.” 

You both didn’t talk for the rest of the night. Instead, you stood vigil over the silver-streaked man, who silently shattered under your watchful eye. 

And when morning came, a single bird warbled its lonely song as you helped him pick up the pieces.

The days were for training, for losing yourself in the endless chores and duties of a Scout, but when night came and the moon led the stars into the sky, you found yourself with Levi. 

Sometimes you went to the library, reading in a chair while Levi dusted, the only sounds those of pages turning and Levi’s occasional curse when he couldn’t reach a shelf. 

Sometimes you went to the kitchens, and Levi would make you both tea. Strong, bitter, it burned your tongue and throat. You’d sit there, drawing out one small cup just so you’d be able to cherish the way Levi held his by the rim rather than the handle. 

Most of the time, you went riding. Levi, with his black mare, tore through the fields, faster than lightning, faster than a shooting star, blazing through the grass. You were close behind, Magnolia’s huffs starting to resemble Isabel’s small chuckle right before her laughing fit, and when dawn broke, you’d reach your arms up to the sky and throw your head back, just to taste a little bit of the freedom your first real friend had talked about that night in the stables. And when Levi looked back, his hair blown back by the wind, you could’ve sworn you saw a little less pain every time in those eyes. 

You were the first one besides Isabel and Furlan to know that Levi’s mother died when he was young. You were the first one to know that sometimes Levi still thought about Kenny, the man who had taught him how to be strong on his own. You were the first one to know everything that happened to him down in the Underground, and when he stopped talking, you reached out and grabbed his hand and held it until you couldn’t anymore. 

He was the first one to know that you were the first of seven, that you were meant to be the responsible one, the caretaker. He was the first to know that you grew flowers by your house to sell on the streets when your mother couldn’t work the fields anymore. He was the first to know how you had buried the body of your youngest brother alone, out in the forest, and how you visited it every day until you enlisted. He was the first to know the truth about Samuel, and what he’d done to you, and how scared and weak you had been. 

He was the first to know when news of your mother came.

When the letter arrived, telling you your mother had fallen sick, you rushed home for the first time in ten years. 

You hadn’t expected to find your little sisters and brothers all grown up. They embraced you, and they cried, and you let yourself show a little bit of weakness as you sobbed. 

This was home. You were home. 

You held your mother’s hand as she died. 

You buried her body right next to your youngest brother, and you did it alone. 

When you returned to the Survey Corps, to Levi, he sat with you under the stars, just as you had that one fateful night, and together, you fit the pieces that had broken off back on again. 

When the end came, you had only one regret. 

“I’m sorry, L-Levi,” you choked out, the mixture of tears and snot and blood making it difficult to talk. The shingles pressing into your back were getting more and more uncomfortable by every passing minute. 

Levi looked pained. The light in his eyes had died out, and blood—your blood—laid drying under the hot sun in his hair and on his face. He looked like he had lost, just as he had all those years ago. 

“Don’t talk,” he said simply as he held your hand. 

You could feel him shaking. 

“I can’t feel my legs,” you whispered, and black dots began to fill your vision. Levi swam in and out of view, but you could vaguely see his eyes widening with helplessness. You whimpered. “It hurts.” 

“I know it does. I know. I know.” 

“Thank you...thank you for saving me.” 

You were sobbing then, and Levi’s jaw tightened, and it was too hot, much too hot, and sweat trickled down your brow. 

As this awful, horrible, cruel, beautiful world faded to black, you heard Levi, and he sounded resigned, his voice fragile. “You saved me. You lent me your strength.” 

Far off, a single bird warbled its lonely song.

The first time you were called strong, you were twenty-two years old and on the roof of a broken-down building with the lumbering steps of a Titan shaking the ground and Levi’s hand in yours.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! Kind of a test run, not really sure how it worked out. Remember to leave a comment or kudos if you liked it!


End file.
